


Gratitude

by ruric



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: comment_fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-14
Updated: 2009-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruric/pseuds/ruric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag to 3x04: Sateda.</p><p>Carson’s never rushed a patient out of an available bed if he could help it and he’s not about to start now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gratitude

Carson pushes the last of the paperwork into the file, powers down his laptop and switches the light on his desk off.

For once the infirmary is quiet – he dismissed the last on duty nurse hours ago because the only patient currently occupying a bed doesn’t exactly need a lot of nursing. Truth be told he could’ve been discharged too but Carson’s never rushed a patient out of an available bed if he could help it and he’s not about to start now.

He walks past the racks of medical gear into the main area and isn’t at all surprised to see Ronon is still awake. 

“How’re you doing, laddie?”

Carson drifts more to the vernacular of his homeland when he’s worried and he’s worried now. 

He’s always had problems keeping Ronon _in_ a bed before – the guy seems to think that as long as he’s conscious and still breathing he should be mobile. Carson doesn’t doubt it’s a legacy of seven years running and it’s only that Ronon can keep moving past pain that would put a normal man down and keep him down that’s kept Ronon alive.

But they were all a little surprised when Ronon gruffly accepted the idea that he should stay in bed when they got him back from Sateda. The Wraith had worked him over badly – he’s a mass of bruises, grazes, burns, scorches, contusions and torn muscles – but miraculously nothing’s broken. Carson doesn’t know whether to chalk that up to the strength of the Satedan armor Ronon had been wearing, his uncanny ability to avoid serious injury or sheer bloody good luck.

“I’m okay.”

Ronon pushes himself to a sitting position and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Carson’s by his side in half a dozen quick strides, hand flattening against Ronon’s chest ready to push him back down flat at the first sign of dizziness.

“I said I’m fine.” Carson can feel the deep rumble of Ronon’s voice through his palm. “How are you?”

“What?”

“You killed a Wraith today.”

It’s the first time anyone has asked him – Hippocratic oath and vocation aside – Carson feels no guilt whatsoever about firing straight into that bastard’s chest.

“I think he deserved it – don’t you?”

Ronon’s grin is fierce and joyful and strips ten years from his age.

Strong fingers close around Carson’s wrist and when Ronon’s lips meet his, the only coherent thought in Carson’s head is that his kiss is surprisingly gentle.

Carson might just be a little breathless when Ronon breaks away but the hands closing on him are insistent.

“Not here.”

His voice is little more than a ragged whisper but the infirmary can be monitored and he doesn’t want any of the techs to stumble across the Head of the Medical Team making out, with someone who is, technically for all intents and purposes, still one of his patients. 

Besides it’s been at least 15 years since Carson fooled around on a gurney.

“Okay.”

Ronon simply tucks his clothes under his arm and pads barefoot, still dressed in hospital whites, after Carson back to his quarters. If Carson heaves a sigh of relief when they get there unnoticed Ronon has the good sense to not say anything.

A whisper of sound behind him brings Carson around and Ronon’s so close Carson has to back up a step and tilt his chin so he can look up into Ronon’s face and not stare at his chest. And he has to try even if it will kill him to do it.

“Look, laddie sometimes a patient can well....” and he stutters to a halt caught by the sly humor in Ronon’s eyes and the curve of his lips into a smile.

“Relax doc. I just want to say thanks.”

Ronon’s skin is warm and his mouth is soft, and Carson can feel the steady thump of Ronon’s heart under his hand. Carson has a healer’s hands, he knows how and where to touch without damaging injured skin and muscle.

Thank you can be a two way street and maybe, Carson thinks, this isn’t such a bad idea after all.


End file.
